Transgressions
by Willow-Bee the Cat
Summary: Nobody remembers Dawn ever existed in the wake of Buffy's swan dive in The Gift. Or a series of accidents lead to Dawn's arrival in a strange new world and her immersion in the hunting community.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make a profit from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, or Supernatural.

Challenge: The Never Existed Challenge by littleoldme

Rating: T

Pairings: Dawn/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Jo Harvelle

Timeline: Begins roughly five years preseries for Supernatural, during The Gift for BtVS, and roughly episode 16; Sleep Tight of season 3 for Angel.

Summary: Nobody remembers Dawn ever existed in the wake of Buffy's swan dive in The Gift. Or a series of accidents lead to Dawn's arrival in a strange new world and her immersion in the hunting community.

Author's Note: Uh… I'm not really sure how to describe what I've got going through my head. I'll admit, when I read the challenge a thousand and one possibilities ran through my mind. This is the one I finally settled on. Now, I'll admit that this is perhaps not quite what littleoldme had in mind, but I think it fits the challenge relatively well.

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

It took Dawn most of the walk back home to figure out what had happened-what had probably happened, she mentally corrected. She didn't know for sure.

When Dawn had managed to climb down the unstable platform, Willow and Xander and Giles had been huddled together, standing over Buffy's body. Dawn had had to walk past Ben's body to get to them. It was when she reached Willow and Xander that things had gone downhill.

None of them had recognized Dawn at all. At first they'd assumed she was one of Glory's lunatic victims. Then they'd demanded to know if she was one of Glory's minions. When Dawn had seen Willow begin to center herself so that she could cast a spell, she'd made a break for it. Dawn had no desire to be hit with one of Willow's spells, which went wrong more often than they went right.

By the time she'd made it home, Dawn had come to the realization that whatever had implanted knowledge of her into the memories of the Scoobies-and likely the world at large-had to have been tied to Buffy. With Buffy dead, nobody remembered that Dawn had ever existed.

She couldn't stay here. She couldn't stay with people who didn't remember her, who thought she was possibly evil and would doubtless throw her out first chance they got. And all Dawn could think about was what Buffy had done after she'd sent Angel to hell. If Buffy could survive on her own, so could she, Dawn decided.

There wasn't much time before the Scoobies would return, Dawn reminded herself. It was easy enough to sneak into the house. Once inside she went up to the bathroom and took a quick shower-she didn't know when she'd next be able to and it was worth the risk of discovery. Once clean she carefully stitched the wounds on her stomach closed and bandaged them and her wrists, which had ligature marks that had broken the skin. With bandages around her wrists like that, it looked like she'd attempted suicide, but Dawn didn't care. Finally she dressed her feet-walking several miles barefoot had not been kind to them.

In a towel, Dawn went to her room to get dressed, only to stop short. Her room wasn't there. Well, technically her room still existed, but it wasn't a bedroom, it was a storage room. Dawn took a deep, shuddering breath and picked up a backpack on a metal frame with an old fashioned bedroll attached to the bottom, doubtless meant for camping before turning around and heading for Buffy's room instead.

Dawn didn't like scavenging her sister's possessions, but she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. She strapped several knives to her body and stuffed a battle axe and a sheathed sword into the backpack. After a moment's thought Dawn pulled on socks, a pair of Buffy's underwear-the thought of which made Dawn uncomfortable-and tried to find a bra which would fit, unsuccessfully. Giving up on finding a bra, Dawn tried to find a pair of pants which would fit. Unfortunately, the pants were all too small to fit over her hips and simply too short for her to wear anyway. With a mental growl Dawn instead raided Buffy's closet, picking out a loose knee length skirt and a tank top. Now knowing what would and wouldn't fit, Dawn stuffed roughly a pair of rubber soled flats she could run in, half a dozen skirts, four dresses, a half dozen shirts, two long sleeved shirts, two cardigans, two pairs of leggings, three nightgowns, and a dozen pairs of socks into the backpack. There wasn't much room left, but she managed to fit medical supplies and basic toiletries into the bag. Just before she left she put on a pair of sneakers which looked rather bad with her skirt, but Dawn didn't really care.

On her way out of the house, Dawn went into each room, searching for every bit of money she could find. It wasn't much-only about a hundred dollars-but it was better than nothing.

It hurt more than she wanted to admit, but Dawn managed to walk to the bus station. There she bought a ticket on the next bus to LA and sat down to wait.

Some part of her mind knew that she should have some sort of reaction to this. She should be devastated. She should be hysterical. Another part of her mind knew that it hadn't sunk in yet, that when she was someplace she felt safe, it would hit her like a ton of bricks.

* * *

Once in LA, Dawn took the time to go to a Sears and pick up twenty dollars worth of bras and two six packs of panties-granny panties, admittedly, but since Dawn didn't know when she'd next be able to buy some she went for durable rather than sexy. She almost gave in to the urge to buy some pants but managed to resist. Dawn simply didn't have the money for it.

Dawn spent most of the day downtown looking for a job under the table, to little avail. She'd no identification, no social security number, which made it difficult. Defeated, Dawn went to get dinner near ten in the evening.

After eating, Dawn had intended to continue her job search, at least until she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It was the oddest feeling and if asked, Dawn would not have been able to describe it, save that it felt almost like the portal Glory-well Doc, really-had opened with her blood.

Dawn felt the blood drain from her face. Before she had a chance to think about what she was doing, she grabbed her backpack and set off on foot, letting the feeling lead her through back alleys she normally would never have dared to enter, even during the day and under a bridge. Dawn wasn't sure why she was following this feeling, only that she wanted-no, needed to find where it was coming from.

And suddenly she turned a corner and saw something that looked like a normal night on the Hellmouth. There was a woman in front of several heavily armed men-soldiers, maybe?-facing off against four figures. It took Dawn a moment to realize that the man in the center held a gun. Behind the man with the gun were a woman and a man with a bundle in his arms, both very careful to keep their car at their back. Several feet away was a humanoid demon in flowing robes. The feeling was coming from the demon, Dawn realized. (1)

It was almost painful to watch the demon, so she turned her gaze to the man with a bundle-a moving bundle-in his arms. She should take a better look at the others involved-at least try to figure out what was happening-but it seemed that she couldn't tear her eyes off that moving bundle. The man was threatening to kill the bundle.

'_Oh dear lord,'_ Dawn thought to herself. _'That's a baby,'_

The demon raised its arms and announced, "Lekko najine forkahdio!"

Dawn felt her knees buckle as the demon tore a hole in the dimensional barriers, opening a portal of some sort. The demon babbled about Quor Toth and hell dimensions and how the baby needed to die or Earth would be sucked into Quor Toth as Dawn tore off her backpack and pulled desperately searched through it until her hand hit the sword. She unsheathed the sword and pulled it out of the bag before closing the backpack and putting it back on. Her broadsword couldn't do much against soldiers armed with guns, but it was the best weapon she had on her.

The demon opened the portal a little wider in response to something-Dawn hadn't really been paying attention. Then the man with the baby made a break for it.

Suddenly all curiosity coalesced into an innate knowledge that that man, that baby could not go through that portal. She didn't know how she knew-it wasn't because of that demon's bragging, rather because of some instinct-but she knew that that portal led someplace terrible. Dawn completely disregarded how she knew the portal led to a bad place-she'd figure it out some other time.

And she reacted. Something-some unnamed part of her that felt almost like the handful of times she'd cast spells-reached out and grabbed hold of the portal. And then she was being pulled through along with the man and the baby.

"Ow," groaned Dawn as she pushed herself off the ground, silently grateful that she'd managed to keep hold of her backpack and sword.

Dawn first mentally evaluated her injuries-it didn't feel like her stitches had popped, which was a good thing-and then looked around. She was in a clearing in some strange forest with skeletal trees. Above her was a blood red sky and across from her was the man, who was pulling himself to his feet. It took Dawn a little longer to find the baby, which had apparently been dropped. It was crying and Dawn could only breathe a sigh of relief. At least the fall hadn't killed it.

She pushed herself to her feet and brushed off her skirt, wincing at the pain in her leg. The entire left side of her left leg and hip, and, she noticed, her left shoulder and upper arm were covered in road rash and dirt. Well, it wasn't bleeding too badly, she supposed, although Dawn had little doubt her body would be a mess of bruises come morning.

The man leaned down to pick up the baby and Dawn reacted, speaking before she had a chance to think things through. "Don't even think about touching that baby!"

"Are you with Wolfram and Hart?" he asked, edging toward her.

Dawn dropped her backpack and lifted her sword so that the point was a foot from the man's throat, settling into a defensive stance. Spike had been teaching her to use a sword for the past year, though she wasn't by any means an expert. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Now really, there's no reason to point that sword at me," he said.

"No way in hell. You threatened to kill that baby."

"We are in hell," he pointed out. He moved toward her. "My son needs me."

"Back off," she growled.

And then she was on her back and her sword was gone from her hands. Dawn wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but the man had simultaneously disarmed and tripped her. She wheezed as the air was knocked from her lungs. Dawn was still wheezing when he landed on her. He punched her once in the stomach and a second time in the face. Everything became gray around the edges. It was a struggle, but Dawn managed to think well enough to try to reach for the knife strapped to her right thigh.

Somehow he grabbed her wrist a moment before she managed to untangle her skirt to get to the knife and pinned it above her head. The realization that the man was going to kill her only made Dawn struggle that much harder, clawing at his face with her free hand and attempting to kick him. Fear shot through her when she realized that her attempts to kick had resulted in the man settling between her legs.

The blood drained from her face upon feeling certain portions of his anatomy upon her thigh. Wild with terror she redoubled her efforts. And then he managed to grab her other wrist.

With both her wrists pinned, Dawn reacted, slamming her forehead into the man's face. Dawn felt his teeth dig in to her forehead, but she ignored that. The head but had hit his nose as well. The man flinched, allowing Dawn to rip her wrists free. Before she had a chance to think about what she was doing she reached down the waist of her skirt and pulled out the knife. It wasn't until her knife was buried in the man's stomach that she knew what she had done. Dawn tightened her grip on the knife and pulled it up, disemboweling the man.

Shaking, Dawn pushed the man-the soon to be dead man-off of her. The man let out a moan of pain. Dawn sat up, examining the man. He wouldn't survive this injury-at least, not without medical care. She pulled the knife out of his stomach and stabbed him in the heart. Better to end his pain now than to leave him to a die a slow death.

She startled back as his eyes turned black. And then some sort of black smoke came out of the man's mouth. It circles around Dawn once before leaving. Maybe it was normal for Quor Toth. So much had happened in so short a period of time that it almost didn't register to Dawn what had happened. (2)

Dawn didn't know how long she sat there, watching the man die, but eventually the sound of a baby crying broke through the fog in her mind. Dawn stumbled to her feet and limped over to the child, only to stop short. She was covered in blood and other bodily fluids. The baby needed her, but she couldn't touch it while she was like this.

Clumsily Dawn returned to her bag and striped, leaving her only clean clothing, her socks and shoes on. Dawn carefully used her soiled clothing to removed most of the blood. Then she dressed herself in a new bra and panties, a knee length skirt, a tank top and a button up shirt which would hopefully cover most of her injuries.

As clean as she was going to be, Dawn went over to the child and sat down before lifting it into her lap and checking it for noticeable injuries. Dawn left the diaper in place, as she didn't have a replacement. Carefully, she made a sling by tying the blanket's corners around her and over one shoulder before she gently placed the child in the sling. Dawn knew she would need her hands free.

Absently Dawn began to hum the lullaby she'd learned from her paternal grandmother-the only member of her father's family worth anything. Dawn did her best to calm the child as she gathered her sword and sheathed it, then placed it back into her backpack. Dawn used her ruined clothing to clean her knife before putting the knife back in its sheath. She put her backpack on and stood.

She needed to get out of this dimension, preferably before any of the natives discovered she and the baby were there. Unfortunately there was only one thing she could think to do.

Dawn took a look around to make sure she had everything, leaving only her soiled clothing. Then she wrapped her arms around the child protectively.

Closing her eyes, Dawn centered herself. Once calm, she reached out with her senses, mentally begging for something, anything which might lead out of Quor Toth. There were… strings of magic-no, not magic, something else, something that she'd felt far too much of in the past twenty four hours-leading, pulling every which way. Dawn followed the strings with her mind until she found one that led somewhere that felt like home. She wasn't sure why it felt like home, or even how she knew what home felt like, but she decided it was her best bet.

This time, when she reached out with the not-magic inside her, she did so hesitantly, gently. The last thing she wanted was to be dragged along the ground or fall when she had a baby in her arms. A moment after her not-magic connected with the string, Dawn felt something pull her. Dawn's eyes snapped open and she stumbled slightly when she landed, but was otherwise fine.

Cautiously, Dawn looked around. It was the same bridge, the same time of night, but there was nobody in sight and the car was gone.

Was she even in the right dimension? Dawn let out a sigh. There was no way to know for right now. She'd figure it out in the morning.

The first thing to do, Dawn supposed, was to find some baby supplies, and then a motel. She could go to a public library in the morning-if there were even public libraries in this dimension. For a moment, one short moment, Dawn considered leaving the baby as a hospital. And then she remembered that she had no idea what this dimension was like, and even less of an idea of how children were treated here. There was no way in hell she could leave the baby in a hospital.

Dawn made her way back to the road and found a Starbucks relatively quickly. There was a teenage boy maybe a year or two older than her behind the counter and a group of teenagers at a table in one corner. The boy behind the counter gave her this look of horror that made it clear that she looked like a mess.

"Are you alright?" demanded the boy. "Do you want me to call the police?"

"N-no, thank you," said Dawn. She clutched the baby closer while her mind raced. Decision made, she looked down shyly, as if hiding behind her hair. "I just-I just need to use the bathroom."

"Yeah… yeah, sure," stuttered the boy. "Here's the key. The ladies room is down the hall on the right."

"Thank you," mumbled Dawn, taking the offered key.

Once in the bathroom, Dawn locked the door behind her and turned to look at her reflection in the mirror, only to wince. Well that settled that. Until she healed, it would probably be best to act like an abused woman who'd taken her child and left her man.

Dawn placed the baby on the changing table and wrapped it in its blanket before securing the baby with the little seatbelt. Once the baby was secure, Dawn stripped, leaving only her socks and shoes on-there was no way she was taking either off in this bathroom.

First Dawn washed the blood and dirt out of her hair in the sink. Then she wet down several paper towels and first rinsed off the blood. She did the process again, this time with wet paper towels with soap worked into them. Gently she washed out each of her wounds, careful not to disturb the bandages on her stomach. The ones around her wrists were a total loss. Once the soap was rinsed off, Dawn pulled out her-well, it had been Buffy's, really-first aid kit. She used hydrogen peroxide to clean her wounds, dried the peroxide off and then began to bandage herself, taping gauze over the various scabbed over road burns. Her wrists were bandaged and then she carefully applied butterfly bandages to the wound on her forehead caused by the man's teeth. This was about as good as it was going to get, Dawn decided before dressing again.

Dawn grabbed the baby and her backpack and still limping slightly left the bathroom. "Thanks," mumbled Dawn, giving the key back to the boy.

"Are you sure you don't want me to call the cops?"

"Yeah, thanks anyway." Dawn shifted her weight to her right leg. "Do you know where there's a Walmart or something nearby?"

"There's a Rite Aide a block over," said the boy. "Just turn left when you get outside and make a right at the next light."

"Thank you."

Dawn walked out the door, bumping into a man on her way out. Dawn slipped the wallet she'd just stolen into her makeshift sling and left it there until she was around the corner. She pulled the cash-roughly two hundred dollars-out of the wallet and tossed the rest into a garbage can. She couldn't use the credit cards and had even less use for the driver's license.

Dawn hadn't had much cause to use what she'd learned during that Halloween when everybody had been turned into their costumes by Ethan Rayne, but she still remembered the skills. She'd dressed as Carmen Sandiego and Janice had dressed as Catwoman because they'd thought that it was wrong to dress as anything other than a bad guy on Halloween. Most of the master criminal's skills were not the sort of thing Dawn wanted to admit to knowing, but the knowledge of how to pick pockets and successfully shop lift was something she was grateful she knew now.

She grabbed a shopping cart and headed toward the baby aisle. She found a package of diapers that were meant for infants-the baby couldn't be much more than a month old, Dawn estimated. Baby wipes and a plastic padded changing mat went in next, along with baby powder and a bottle of baby soap. Dawn thought about getting a proper baby sling, but decided against it. She wasn't sure how long she'd have the baby and she didn't want to waste money. Instead she found a simple thin wool blanket that would be much easier than the baby's own yellow fleece blanket to tie into a sling.

Dawn bit her lip, trying to figure out what else she needed. There was an extra bag in her backpack which must have originally been used for hold the missing tent. It would be easy enough to use it as a diaper bag and could be attached to the metal frame, so she vetoed the idea of getting a diaper bag. That left only a couple changes of clothing for the baby, formula, some dish towels, a binky, and bottles. Oh, and she needed to find replacements for the medical supplies she'd already used.

It was easy enough to find four little onesies with and without covered feet that were unisex and looked like they would be only a touch large on the baby. She winced at the price but put them in the shopping cart. A pack of three dish towels were next-as Dawn well knew, towels were invaluable when taking care of a baby, as they were prone to spitting up and making other messes. A binky with a clip which could be used to attach it to the baby's clothing was next.

Finally Dawn found herself in front of the bottles and formula. Part of it was that it was expensive and would take up space she didn't really have. She had to carry everything, Dawn reminded herself. And part of it was that even now, she knew that she wasn't going to give up this baby. Dawn looked down at the baby, and could not help but think of the scene she'd stumbled upon. How could she abandon the baby at the hospital when she'd no idea why soldiers or demons were interested in it? If she was going to take the baby, then there was reason to get formula or bottles.

Tara had been a traditionally trained Wicca, which meant that she wasn't just a magic user, but also a trained midwife. Tara had seen Dawn's magical potential and begun to train her soon after they'd met, when Dawn had just been thirteen. It wasn't that hard to induce lactation with a touch of magic-the spell was meant for wet nurses or women whose milk simply hadn't come in. Dawn could manage the spell easily enough, and it would certainly make more sense than lugging formula and bottles around or constantly having to sterilize bottles and nipples.

That decided Dawn left the baby section. While trying to find the bandages she needed, Dawn picked the pocket of another man-she well knew she didn't have enough money to pay for everything in the cart and a motel room that evening. Dawn returned the wallet minus the cash without the man being any the wiser.

Dawn paid for the everything and asked for directions to a supermarket that was still open. She walked three blocks to a small corner market. Dawn gratefully dumped her shopping bags in a cart and went inside. It was easy enough to find the herbs and other supplies she'd need for the spell, and picked up some extra for a separate spell, for just in case the baby had never breast fed before and needed encouragement.

Finally Dawn called a cab company and caught a ride to a motel. Dawn paid for a room for two nights-she couldn't afford anything more than that. Once in the room Dawn locked the deadbolt and put in the chain. Then Dawn dumped her bags by the door and put the baby on the bed, surrounding it with pillows so that it couldn't roll off the bed.

First Dawn unpacked her backpack and pulled out the tent bag. Dawn piled the various baby supplies into the bag and connected it to the aluminum frame. Then she folded and repacked her clean clothing. Dawn disconnected the bedroll and took a drawer out of the dresser. She could sleep with the baby in the bed, but Dawn was well aware that there would be a danger of her rolling over in her sleep and crushing it. So instead she used the bedroll to pad the drawer so that it could be used as a makeshift bassinet.

Once everything was set up Dawn began to run the water in the tub. She didn't want to bathe the baby in the tub, but the sink was simply too small. While the first four inches of the tub filled with water, Dawn undressed the baby and took off the dirty diaper. The baby was a boy, and Dawn breathed a mental sigh of relief that she could now refer to the baby as something other than an it in her head. She gently washed him and carried him wrapped in a towel back to the bed. Dawn lay the baby on the bed.

Then she went through his clothing, looking for anything that might identify him. She found a "C" embroidered into the edge of the blanket, which had a cross stitch pattern around the borders. She supposed that meant that his name began with a C.

"Hmm, so are you a Connell or a Cormack, or a Colin or a Calvin? Or maybe you're a Connor," she said, picking out a onesy and a diaper. "I suppose I'll call you Connor until I know. It was my grandfather's name, you know."

Dawn dressed the fussy baby and put him back on the bed. He was probably hungry. Dawn cleared off the table and began to draw on it with a grease pencil. She put a bowl in the middle of the ritual circle and began to add herbs and a shot from a bottle of whiskey she'd stolen from the market as she chanted in Gaelic. There was a pull of magic when the spell was completed successfully and then Dawn drank everything in the bowl before she had a chance to second guess what she was doing. There was a sudden soreness in her breasts and then she felt slightly lightheaded. Dawn looked down her shirt and immediately noticed that her breasts had grown at least a cup size and that the cups of her bra were damp.

As Tara always said, healing spells always went wrong. But this spell only encouraged the body to do what it did naturally. It was possible to induce lactation in a woman who had not given birth, even without magic, though it was rare to do so.

Dawn stripped off her shirt and bra and grabbed a towel from the bathroom before heading over to the bed. She balanced the baby in her arms and tried to remember everything Tara had shown a new mother on breastfeeding. Dawn had often gone with Tara to visit her patients, as it kept her away from various supernatural dangers. Although Dawn was a bit surprised at how quickly Connor latched on to her nipple. She winced slightly when Connor bit it, although as he had no teeth, it wasn't all that bad. After that initial bite, he settled down. When Connor let go of her nipple, Dawn lay the towel over her shoulder and carefully burped him. The towel caught most of the spit up and Dawn cleaned up what was left, around his mouth. (3)

She settled Connor into the makeshift bassinet and grabbed her nightgown before heading into the bathroom. She wet down a washcloth and carefully cleaned herself around her various wounds and washed her hair by leaning over the bathtub and using the removable shower head. Once clean she put on the nightgown and went to sleep.

She dreamed of a city in the sky seen from the edge of an endless forest. She dreamed of warm arms holding her, rocking her as a soft voice sang songs in a language that was just outside her understanding and was left with the feeling that if she listened hard enough, long enough, she might understand the words.

Dawn was awakened by Connor's cries nearly four hours later, Dawn had reached down and pulled Connor up to the bed. Still half asleep, she pulled down the neck of her nightgown and let him suckle. Even if her breasts were sore and her nipples hurt, this was definitely better than making milk every time he woke her up, Dawn decided. When he didn't settled down immediately Dawn checked his diaper and changed it, narrowly avoiding being peed on. Eventually they both drifted off.

The dream was different this time. A dream of a childhood games and long hours exploring the forest with another, rather androgynous child. Her sister, her mind supplied. Except… except it wasn't Buffy, it was some other little girl.

The next time Connor woke her up, it was nearly five hours later. At least, Dawn supposed, she wouldn't need an alarm clock anytime soon. She fed and changed Connor before dressing him in clean clothing. She got dressed in a sundress which ended at mid calf-it was long enough to cover the abrasions and bruises on her legs-her various knives, and a cardigan which covered everything else. After a moment's thought she put on the flats. She could run in them if she needed to.

Dawn detached the bag she'd made into a diaper bag. Judging by the shoulder strap, she supposed that it had not been a tent bag as she'd originally assumed. She took out all but six of the diapers, the various diaper supplies, two extra towels, a change of clothing, and his binky. She then went into her bag and placed her money and a couple other needed items in her makeshift diaper bag. Dawn tied the new wool blanket into a sling balanced over one shoulder and put Connor, wrapped in his yellow blanket into the sling. She picked up the diaper bag and headed out, putting the do not disturb sign on the door before locking it and slipping her key into the bag.

In the main office Dawn asked for directions and headed to a local diner for breakfast. On the way she managed to pick two pockets. She remembered-well, it was more that Carmen remembered-learning to pick pockets, using an overcoat on a manikin with seven bells attached. This would be the last for the next couple days unless it was an emergency, Dawn decided.

Dawn ended up seated at the counter, because it was easier than trying to fit into a booth with Connor strapped to her chest. It wasn't like he was big enough for the restaurant's high chairs just yet. She ate and then had a cab called, because it was simply too far to get to a public library. Dawn would go to an internet café, but she had a feeling that she'd want to look at some history books. This might look like her dimension, and Dawn could not deny that it felt like home, but there was something in the air that seemed to tell Dawn that this was not the same dimension.

It was easy enough to get into the library, although she had to sign a sheet to access a computer. She settled in and began her search with Sunnydale. If there was one thing Dawn knew, it was that Sunnydale would exist if the Hellmouth existed.

There was no Sunnydale. There was no town with a different name in the place where Sunnydale should be. There had been no Spanish monastery on the land and Dawn didn't know whether to cry of breath a sigh of relief. There was seven Hellmouths in the world-her world, at least-and Dawn quickly began to check to see if any of the other six existed. Of them, Cleveland and Edinburgh were still there, still seemed to be mystical convergences with strange occurrences, but nothing of the scale of even an inactive Hellmouth.

Dawn bit her lip in thought. Could she even get back to her world? No, Dawn decided, she probably couldn't. Should she spend months or years trying to get back to a dimension where nobody even remembered she existed, travelling through what were likely dangerous dimensions? Should she try to get back to a dimension where even if she wasn't remembered, there had to be people who knew that the Key existed?

This dimension didn't seem too bad. She'd have to check, make sure it was safe, but there was no reason she and Connor couldn't stay. There was still magic in this world obviously, but there didn't seem to be any supernatural presence of the level of her world. That was something Dawn certainly had to check. It would be safer for Connor as well. Who knew what sort of trouble he or his family had been involved in for so powerful a demon to want him dead.

* * *

(1) This is the infamous scene where Holtz takes Connor to Quor Toth, and I know that that didn't take place until the end of Season 6 of Buffy, but I've decided that I wanted this scene too much to care. So instead, the first three seasons of Angel were compressed so that they took place in two years instead of three. And yes, Dawn did kill Holtz.

(2) Yes, that was the sort of demon normally found in the Supernatural universe. No, I'm not saying the possession in any way excuses Holtz's actions. No, I have no idea how long he's been possessed, although I'm inclined to say since shortly after he woke up in the 21st century. I'm not going to make excuses for his hunting of Angel back in the 18th century, it was perfectly justified and understandable. Of course, it's entirely possible the demon just hung around in the back of Holtz's mind, content to watch him cause chaos and strife wherever he went.

(3) I know that babies who have had a bottle, as Connor has may experience difficulty breastfeeding as it easier to suckle from a bottle than from a breast. That said, Connor is part vampire and seems to have inherited quite a bit from Angel and Darla. I can only assume that he would have inherited a vampire's enhanced senses and be able to smell the milk. Likewise Connor is much stronger than a human, and even if he were a little lazy because he'd only had milk from bottles before, it wouldn't be that hard for him to suckle from a breast.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

So Dawn left the computer and headed over to the history section to check if anything important had changed. Three hours later Dawn had ascertained that all the major historical events had occurred as she remembered. Then she'd moved on to current events. There didn't seem to be anything different, but Dawn hadn't been paying much attention to politics recently for obvious reason.

Dawn headed over to the section on mythology, folklore, and the paranormal and began to scan the titles. None of the books were the same. In her world there were a handful of legitimate mainstream books on the supernatural and generally one or more were in any library. She found none of them here. The more generic stuff seemed to be the same, but Dawn couldn't find reference to any of the familiar demons that seemed to infest a Hellmouth.

Except… Dawn thought to herself. If there were no Hellmouths, she realized, then maybe there were no supernatural creatures from other dimensions coming and going as they pleased in this world. That, she supposed, meant that the only supernatural creatures here were the ones native to this dimension.

Dawn sat down on a stool and pulled out a book so that she'd look busy. Connor had just woken up from his morning nap, but he seemed content to cuddle against her chest.

What creatures were native to her own dimension? From what she remembered, even the Old Ones had been from another world. If the Old Ones had never visited this world, then vampires didn't exist. Then again there were half a dozen species of vampires. Since there were still legends of vampires in this world, then maybe one or two of those species were native to this world. Ghosts and poltergeists were relatively rare, but they should exist here as well. Probably werewolves as well, although Dawn wasn't sure which curse or even if all the different types of cursed werewolves existed here.

Dawn wasn't really sure what else might exist here. She hadn't been allowed to research much and knew she had no idea what books were and were not legitimate in this dimension.

Connor began to cry so she took him to the ladies room and changed his diaper. Then Dawn headed over to the children's section of the library and found a Dr. Seuss book. She needed a break from research and reading a children's book to Connor seemed like a good idea. By the time she sat down there were two other small children crowded around her seat, so she told the story to both Connor and the children, careful to remember to show the two children the pictures after she read each page. When the story ended she would have gone back to research, except one of the children, a little girl no more than three pressed a picture book about bears into her hands.

Once done reading Dawn headed back to the computers. There she began to research if the Slayer even existed in this dimension. She'd found no reference in the books she'd looked at, which was unusual. Although she supposed that if there were no Hellmouths, no interdimensional demons, there'd be no need for a Slayer. Her research seemed to support this as well. It was mostly the interdimensional demons and the Old Ones' creations which a Slayer was needed to defend against.

Roughly two hours later Dawn wandered out of the library and to a deli for a sandwich and a drink. Though tempted to get soda, Dawn was well aware that she needed to eat more food, particularly nutritious food now that she was breastfeeding, so she got cranberry juice instead. One salami and peanut butter sandwich later, she headed back in to the library.

She settled at a computer once again and this time began to search for Buffy, Joyce, and Hank Summers. Dawn had just found an article on a fire in Hemmery High School's gym during the Homecoming dance when Connor let out what was becoming his familiar "I'm hungry! Feed me!" cry. This was something Dawn hadn't thought of before. But despite her embarrassment Connor needed to eat. So she unbuttoned the first two buttons of the front of her dress and bared her breast so that Connor could suckle. In an instant she reached into the diaper bag and pulled out a towel to cover herself modestly as she'd seen other women do over the years.

Letting Connor suckle, Dawn continued her research. There'd been two dozen dead bodies in the gym at the time and according to the articles the dance had been attacked by a gang which had taken the students hostage. This hostage situation had caused one of the students to have a psychotic break and she had set fire to the gym. The next couple articles she'd found had been on trials of the surviving gang members and Buffy Summers, whose family had agreed to institutionalize her rather than let her face criminal charges. There was no record of Dawn Summers ever existing in this dimension, but Dawn had expected that. There was a whimper and Dawn turned Connor to switch breasts and so he could continue his meal. When Connor stopped she fixed the front of her dress and burped him, then settled him back into the sling.

Next Dawn began to research the various Watchers she knew by name, particularly Merrick, Giles, and Wesley. Merrick had died young and very suspiciously. Judging by the report that he'd been killed in a locked room in a locked house, Dawn was inclined to believe it had been something supernatural. Likewise, Giles had died young, he and his other friends from back when he'd been Ripper had been all been shot by an unknown assailant. Probably because of their idiotic attempt at demon summoning. There were few records on Wesley Wyndom-Price, but from what she could see, he'd been living underground and wandering the world. As for the Watcher's Council, as far as Dawn could find, there was no record that it had ever existed.

Dawn could find no record of Faith, but that was understandable. She'd no idea if Lehane was even really Faith's surname. So next she looked for Willow. The woman was now a sophomore at Wellesley and there was no sign that she'd any idea the supernatural even existed. Likewise Xander was an ordinary construction worker in a small town several hours away. Dawn moved on to Tara, who was living in middle-of-nowhere Tennessee with her rancher husband. She winced at that. Tara was a lesbian, the only reason she'd ever marry a man was if her family pressured her into it. Cordellia was in hiding in Mexico from the IRS with her parents, which had surprised Dawn. Whereas Oz was still with Dingoes Ate My Baby, which was a marginally successful band.

Now that Dawn knew what had happened to the various Scoobies, she went back to searching for information on Buffy. It took some hacking, but Dawn managed to find the mental institution Buffy was in.

Research done, Dawn changed Connor's diaper and headed out. She found a Walmart a couple blocks over and picked out a couple more outfits Connor could grow into, a rattle, and a soft little stuffed rabbit. On her way out, she noticed an aisle dedicated to knitting and crocheting. She found a small book on patterns for baby clothing and blankets and appropriate yarn and knitting needles, and after a moment's thought a crochet hook. It had been a awhile, but Dawn remembered how to knit and it would give her hands something so do. She'd start with knitting-it was better for clothing-and if she had any leftovers she could crochet a couple granny squares, perhaps make a blanket.

She sat down on a bench in a small square and began to knit a simple little sweater for Connor. It was only two in the afternoon and Dawn had no idea what else to do with herself. The fresh air would be good for Connor anyway.

Dawn and Connor spent much of the afternoon in the park while Dawn contemplated what to do with herself.

It wouldn't be that hard to create a new identity for herself, she supposed, although she'd need a lot of money for the fake i.d.s and birth certificates. Not to mention all she'd have to do to create a complete history for her and Connor. At least Carmen had known how to do that. If she had to she could probably forge everything she needed herself. That would probably be for the best, Dawn decided. There was no way she could trust another person to do the forgeries. That meant that she'd have to find examples of everything she needed to forge just to be sure it looked correct.

And if she did create a life for herself here, what would she do? Dawn let out a sigh. Here she wasn't helping Buffy-Dawn ignored the fact that she'd rarely been of much help to Buffy-and with a baby who depended on her, she couldn't go out and search for the supernatural. After her fight with Connor's father, Dawn was not so foolish as to think she stood a chance against most of the things that were probably out there.

Maybe research, Dawn contemplated as she slid the stitches of the sleeve onto a piece of yarn and began to make the next sleeve. Once she knew what was and wasn't real here she could help to research. There would be those who hunted the supernatural-there had to be. Of course, there was the question of whether or not they were competent or even if they were sane. But there had to be somebody sane, somebody competent who hunted. The only problem would be finding them.

Should she still use the name Dawn Marie Summers? No. However unlikely, if somebody from her old dimension knew that name, they could track her down using it. Maybe something like Mary Dawn… it was a nice Irish name. A little bit of a cliché of the Irish Catholic, but that didn't bother Dawn overly much. Hank Summers' family may have been Welsh, but Joyce Summers nee O'Malley had been from an Irish family. Maybe Mary Dawn O'Dea. She liked that. She could even say to call her Dawn because Mary Dawn made her feel like she was in trouble. There'd be no need to even bother creating a father for Connor. She'd have to forge his birth records, but that would be relatively easy.

Then came the question of her family. If she wanted it to stand up to close scrutiny, it had to be possible to track the family back for generations. Which meant that was out. She didn't have the time or the resources to do that. It was excessive by normal standards, but Dawn wanted an identity that could stand up to even the most stringent inquiries. Dawn didn't consider that perhaps her definition of close scrutiny was different from others. Carmen Sandiego had been dealing with members of ACME on a regular basis after all.

Then again, there were thousands of kids in foster care. Dawn could create an identity for herself as one of them. Maybe she'd been found when she was five or six, and though she'd "known" her name, the police had never been able to find her family. It would be easy enough to create records for that, although she'd have to forge a police report or two. Maybe even the paperwork that said she was an emancipated minor. Of course, there'd be school records and various bits of paperwork from foster families to forge.

Well at least Dawn knew what she'd be doing for the next couple of days.

* * *

Normally, Dawn's memories from her night as Carmen Sandiego were vague, but she'd been pulling on that knowledge more and more since Buffy's death. Dawn could not help but be slightly frightened when she broke into the building and then office belonging to the social worker she'd chosen with ease. Even though she was carrying Connor, who seemed to have been lulled asleep by Dawn's movement, it was terrifyingly easy to pick locks and avoid security cameras. It took Dawn only three hours to make all the paperwork she needed and hack into the computer and insert the information for Mary Dawn O'Dea's back story.

Dawn had forged everything for Connor's birth and prenatal care the day before and inserted them into the files of a hospital the night before, less than six hours after she'd decided to create this identity. Dawn had slept late, lost in peaceful dreams of forests, and then spent much of the day organizing everything she needed to create an identity for herself, from social services records to police reports, to court records, to a driver's license. The social worker she'd chosen had died in a hit and run the day before, making it impossible to ask her any questions about "Mary Dawn O'Dea" and the foster mother had died three months earlier and her only long term foster child was institutionalized for schizophrenia.

Once finished Dawn meandered out of the building, easily avoiding a security guard. She shouldn't be able to do this so easily. Sure, Carmen Sandiego could have, but she was a fictional character. Except… except she wasn't the only person to remember everything from that Halloween night. Xander never spoke of it, but he remembered. Likewise, Janice remembered, Kevin remembered.

Next Dawn walked several blocks and broke into the courthouse. She inserted the forged physical records and hacked the other information into the computer records. Then she'd caught a bus to city hall and ensured all the important papers were in place. She took a break to feed and change Connor before moving on to the next target. Finally she snuck into the appropriate police station, using the confusion of a fistfight to get by undetected. The cops she had picked out had been detectives at the time "Mary Dawn O'Dea" would have been found. One was now six feet under and the other was retired and wandering the U.S. with his wife in an RV.

By the time she was done she was exhausted and Connor would probably wake up soon and demand his six am feeding. Dawn wandered into a diner to pick up something to eat, as she was more hungry than tired. It was false dawn, when the sky had just begun to lighten and the diner she'd chosen was just opening.

She allowed the waitress to lead her to the counter and grabbed a seat in the middle where a mirror allowed her to see everything behind her. She yawned, cuddling Connor to her chest and ordered orange juice, a goat cheese, onion, and spinach omelet and hash browns. Shortly after the waitress delivered the orange juice a priest sat down next to her.

"Morning Father," yawned Dawn.

"Good morning," he said. The man looked concerned, likely about her bruises, but thankfully didn't mention them. Instead he motioned toward Connor. "Your baby's adorable. He looks just like you."

"No he doesn't," laughed Dawn. "But he does have my eyes." It was odd, but Connor already had eyes a similar shade of slate blue to Dawn's.

"So he's what… a month?" asked the priest.

"A month last week."

"My sister has four-her oldest is only a little younger than you," he explained.

"Congratulations," she smiled, happy to talk to somebody about something normal. "I have enough trouble with one, I don't think I could deal with four."

Dawn noticed that Connor had woken up but since he wasn't crying she assumed he wasn't hungry or in need of a new diaper yet. She reached down, only to stop short when she nearly lost her balance.

"Diaper bag?" asked the priest.

Dawn nodded. "Thanks."

She took the bag from the priest and pulled out Connor's rabbit. Connor seemed happy to gum the ear. Dawn refused to even consider the possibility of a teddy bear.

"I'm Mary Dawn O'Dea-you can call me Dawn, and this is Connor."

"Jim Murphy," he said.

The conversation paused as the waitress brought Dawn's food and then took Jim's order. Once she left, Dawn continued. "May I ask what sort of priest you are?"

"Roman Catholic," he said.

"Oh, that's great. I've been looking for a new church. And I need to get Connor baptized soon."

"I'm here on business. My congregation is in Blue Earth, Minnesota."

"Ah well," sighed Dawn. "I'm not big on snow."

"But I can recommend a couple good churches here in LA."

"Thanks," she smiled, digging in to her food.

It was then that Connor started crying. Dawn sighed, rocking Connor as she dug through the diaper bag. "Couldn't you have waited until we were in private? Mommy doesn't like feeding you in public."

She draped a towel over her shoulder and zipped the bag shut before dropping it to the ground at her feet. Using the towel to avoid flashing anybody, she pulled down the front of her tank top and undid her bra, which had a front clasp. Once Connor was settled at her nipple and happily suckling, balanced in one arm, Dawn used her free hand to continue eating.

"I thought most young women were too squeamish to breastfeed in public these days," said Jim. He didn't seem to be looking at her breasts, so she decided not to take too much offense.

"Connor's a baby," she pointed out. "I'm not going to delay feeding him for half an hour until I can get him into private or go into a bathroom to feed him."

"No need to get your hackles up. It wasn't a criticism."

"Sorry. I had a bit of an argument over feeding Connor yesterday with a guy in a Kinko's. Although the manager did take my side."

"So is he at the point where he cries all night long yet?"

"No," said Dawn. "Although he does wake me up for two and six a.m. for feedings. I'm hoping he won't get colic."

"Good luck with that," he said doubtfully. "Do you have any help?"

Dawn shook her head. "I'm on my own and Connor's father isn't in the picture."

"Did he…?" Jim motioned toward her face.

Dawn gave a short nod. "He wasn't exactly happy when I went to take Connor and leave. But like I said, he's out of the picture now."

Absently Dawn burped Connor and fixed her clothing and shirt. She settled Connor back into the sling along with his rabbit. Dawn dropped the towel so it landed on the bag. She slathered her hash browns with mustard and dug in.

While she'd been feeding Connor, Jim had apparently taken out a small leather bound three ring notebook. He took out a photo and a photocopy of something written in Latin and appeared to be examining the translation written on a separate piece of paper. Dawn would have let him be, except that she recognized the photo to be of an ancient Celtic statue, with Ogham symbols carved into its base

Dawn let out a low whistle. "Whoever gave you that translation should be taken out back and shot. It's worth shit."

"I think I know my Latin," he said, obviously offended.

"The problem's not the Latin-to-English, it's the Ogham-to-Latin," pointed out Dawn. "Judging by the subject matter and the Latin, I'm guessing it was a missionary from about fifteen to eighteen hundred years ago who wrote about the statue, right? Well the priest or monk likely would have been working from translations given to him by the locals. You know, druids and what few educated men there were, and I doubt they'd have given him something accurate. Anyway, the main problem are these two symbols, which have been mistranslated, the rest seems accurate enough. The actual translation would be something along the lines of 'Donald the bold, banisher of dragons and protector of maidens.' Underneath is a description of the curse placed on the statue to protect the tomb from grave robbers. Let's see… 'All who dare defile this grave shall be hunted in this life and the next by the hounds of hell.'" Dawn ducked her head. "Sorry. I tend to get upset over translation mistakes."

"No, no, it's alright," said Jim. "Where did you learn to read Ogham symbols?"

"The boyfriend of one of my babysitters was an anthropologist," explained Dawn. She didn't think she'd run into Jim again, but it was better to stick as close to the truth as possible and she supposed that Giles could have been considered Jenny Calendar's boyfriend. "I think he didn't know what else to do with me so he used to teach me to keep me busy."

"Thanks for the help."

It was then that Dawn noticed the priest's surprisingly muscular figure, the weapons hidden by his clothing. Several knives and at least two guns, from what Dawn could see. There were scars here and there, most faded, although there was one or two that were fresh.

Dawn tossed the money for her food on the counter and collected Connor and the diaper bag quickly. Right before she turned to leave, she explained, "If you want to stop the curse, you'll need to destroy the statue. It was nice meeting you, Father."

"Uh, yeah, nice meeting you too."

It was obvious that the man was suspicious and that he wanted to stop her, but Dawn kept walking and Jim didn't get out of his seat. Perhaps Jim Murphy was a hunter of the supernatural. Or perhaps he was some sort of thrill seeker. Either way, Dawn didn't want to find out. She wasn't ready to meet a hunter just yet.

* * *

"What do you think?" asked Dawn as she primped in front of the mirror. Connor didn't answer, but that was to be expected.

After her encounter with Jim Murphy, Dawn had retreated back to her motel room. She'd then spent the next twenty four hours alternating between napping, doing laundry, and watching TV while she finished up the sweater she had been knitting for Connor and then making a pair of booties and a little hat, all the while thinking. Dawn had eventually convinced herself that she shouldn't change her identity and throw away all the hard work she'd put into creating Mary Dawn O'Dea just because of the encounter with Jim. However she should leave the city.

Once Dawn had decided to leave LA, she'd known what she had to do. On her way out of LA, she had to visit Buffy, she had to make sure that this dimension's version of her sister was really insane and not just there because Joyce and Hank hadn't believed her when she'd said there were vampires in the gym.

There wasn't much Dawn could do for her face-she had no makeup. So she'd tried to dress herself as modestly and neatly as possible, in an ankle length skirt and a long sleeved cotton blouse. Her waist length hair had been loosely braided down her back to keep it out of her way.

Was it being in a new dimension or perhaps an unfamiliar bed that had caused the strange dreams she'd been having. Save for a single nightmare about the night Buffy had died, all her dreams since she'd come to this dimension had been so strange. Other than her dreams of the endless forest, the faceless singing woman, and the little girl, there had been new dreams of visiting the floating city. It had been such a strange city, full of androgynous, almost inhuman, wild haired people that looked like the faceless woman and her dream sister and spoke a language that was on the tip of Dawn's tongue. But she pushed the dreams from her mind. At least for now.

Dawn did one last check of the room and then tied the sling around her. Before placing Connor in the sling, she put the newly made sweater, booties, and hat on Connor. She'd dressed him in the little shirt and overalls he'd been wearing when she found him, as while utilitarian and cute, the onsies were boring after a while. Once Connor was in the sling, Dawn slipped on her backpack and placed the key on the table and walked out, only to stop short.

"Following me?" she said, trying to hide her fear.

Jim Murphy was sitting on a pickup truck parked directly in front of her room. "It wasn't that hard to track you down." He stood, showing her his hands so she'd know they were empty. "You were right. Destroying the statue stopped the curse. A friend verified your translation of the Ogham."

"Good," said Dawn, deciding not to bother denying that she knew about magic.

"Looks like you're heading out."

"I am. I figured it would be harder for Connor's father to find us if we leave the city."

"Need a ride?"

Dawn bit her lip, then admitted, "I'm heading over to Sunnyvale-it's a mental institution about an hour north of the city. I need to see somebody there before I leave." (1)

"Sure," he said. Jim walked over and opened the passenger door of the truck.

"Thank you," said Dawn. She put her backpack, minus the diaper bag in the cloth covered trunk and sat down in the passenger seat.

When Jim got into the cab and turned the car on, he said, "You know what's really out there?"

Dawn gave a short nod, and explained, "My best friend's home was haunted. The ghost wasn't all that bad-until her little brother was born. I was there for a sleepover when it tried to kill Michael." There were perhaps one hundred to two hundred ghosts in Sunnydale at any time, over a hundred times the national average for a town that size. The ghost incident had been Dawn's first real exposure to the supernatural-ignoring the possessed teddy bear incident-and she and Janice had had to take care of it themselves. "Janice and I had to track down, dig up, and purify the remains ourselves."

"Purify?"

"I'm not sure what you… professionals call it, but there was a purification ritual we found where pouring salt on the body and then burning it was supposed to make the ghost pass on." She shrugged. "The ghost never bothered Janice or her family again."

"Salting and burning generally works," agreed Jim. "Us professionals call ourselves hunters, by the way."

"I know." She looked down, thinking back to the man who'd claimed to be Connor. And then it hit her. "I've known a hunter or two." She looked up at Jim. "You're a priest, a real priest, right?"

"I am."

"I-never mind. It's not important."

"If you want to talk about it, I'm here."

The drive passed in silence, except for when Dawn read out the directions she'd gotten from the internet. Eventually they arrived at the asylum, an hour and a half after they set out.

"Dawn, I'll wait here while you visit," said Jim.

"I-thank you," mumbled Dawn.

* * *

Half an hour later Dawn came back out to the truck, clutching Connor tight to her chest. She stumbled over to the truck and clambered up into the cab.

"Are you alright?" Jim asked softly, putting away a Stephen King novel he'd been reading. The Stand, judging by the title.

"Yes-no… I don't know. I don't, I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, I'm heading back to Blue Earth. You want to be dropped off anywhere between here and there, just ask and I'll stop the truck."

"Thank you," said Dawn. "I'll let you know."

Dawn leaned her head against the window and watched the road go by as she fought the urge to cry. Eventually she gave in and let out body wrenching cries. Dawn ended up crying herself to sleep, only to be woken up around noon, when Jim pulled in at a roadside diner. Dawn didn't much feel like speaking, and Jim seemed content to let her remain silent.

They were maybe an hour down the road when Dawn admitted, "Connor's father won't be coming after us. I don't-I don't even know who he is." She rocked Connor gently. "And he's not who I'm trying to avoid."

"What happened?" Jim asked gently.

"He threatened to kill Connor." Dawn sniffled. "He had his hand at Connor's throat. Oh God, I remember him saying how easy it would be to snap his throat, how he could do it before anybody could stop him." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I think his name was Daniel. I don't even know how he got his hands on Connor. I just… he dropped Connor and I picked up the sword and I pointed it at him. I just wanted him to get out of the way so I could go to Connor and get him out of there, but he wouldn't let me. I don't know how he did it, but the sword was across the room and I was on my back and he was hitting me."

Dawn shook her head. "I had a knife and I went to get it, but then he grabbed my hands and he pinned me. I thought he was going to… Well I head butted him. It was the only thing I could think to do. And then I got my hand free and I got my knife. I stabbed him before I knew what I was doing." She looked out the window, refusing to see if Jim was sympathetic or not. "If I'd called 911, he probably would have lived, even though I'd disemboweled him. I just… I rolled him off me and I stabbed him again." She let out a hollow laugh. "And then his eyes turned black and some sort of black smoke came out of him.

"I've never killed anyone before." And then she gave in, bursting into tears once more.

"Christo. Dawn? Dawn, drink this," he ordered, handing her a metal flask. Jim pulled the truck off the road and put it into park.

"What is it?" she asked, forcing herself to calm down. Cautiously she uncapped the flask and sniffed it.

"Holy water."

"Oh, alright," said Dawn. She'd worried him about something-not a vampire, obviously-and had no problem with proving that holy water did nothing to her.

Once she drank, Jim said, "Put some of the water on Connor."

"I-alright." She dripped a couple droplets on Connor, which woke the baby up, but did nothing else. She handed the flask back. "What's-what's this all about?"

Jim shook his head. "Had you ever seen Daniel before then?"

"N-no," she said, keeping in mind she had to stay as close to the truth as possible. Her description of what had happened, while truthful hadn't explained the wounds in her stomach or around each wrist. Jim would certainly have spotted those injuries. "Last week Ben-he was a nurse at the hospital-kidnapped me. He said he wanted to use me as a human sacrifice to some god.

"It's all about the blood," she sniffled. Best to base the hunter on somebody she knew, like Oliver Pike. "Shallow cuts… I'd lost maybe a pint of blood when the hunter I knew came. He rescued me. I think he killed Ben, but I'm not sure. I didn't see what happened. Except, except he died. When I got back from the hospital, Daniel had Connor. You know what happened after that."

"I think Daniel was possessed by a demon." He paused, then asked, "How much do you know about the supernatural?"

"Not all that much. I mean, other than the ghost and Ben I've never really seen anything up close and personal like. Except for the Halloween incident, and the MOO incident, and Ted and that time at the put put golf and well… I tend to end up in strange situations. The hunter I knew, knew I was good with languages-he had this librarian I know and her boyfriend-my babysitter I told you about-research stuff for him sometimes and I did the translations when needed. He didn't want me or Connor to have anything to do with the supernatural and did a pretty good job keeping us out of it."

"Most people don't encounter the supernatural at all."

"Like I said, I tend to get into strange situations." Dawn looked down. They were silent for several minutes as Jim pulled the car back onto the road.

"It wasn't Daniel's fault. It was the demon inside of him who tried to hurt Connor, who hurt you," Jim explained gently. "It took control of his body and there was nothing he could do to stop it. There are ways to exorcize a demon, but it's really rare to do so without hurting or killing the person who's possessed."

"Oh," Dawn said quietly. Connor burst into tears-his hungry cry-so she busied herself with feeding him while she assimilated this knowledge.

"What happened isn't your or Daniel's fault. And you did the right thing."

"Could the demon be coming after me and Connor now?"

* * *

(1) So far as I know, Sunnyvale doesn't exist. If it does, I apologize and would appreciate it if you mentally gave it another name entirely.

Further Notes: I'll not get into what Dawn experienced when she visited Buffy. However this little crying jag was set off by what happened.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: My apologies for taking an extra week to get this out. I had originally planned to go in another direction with this story. However it occurred to me that I was perhaps making the story a little too complicated and I had to almost completely rewrite the last half of this chapter and I'll have to completely rework the what else I've already written. So there may be some delays in getting the next couple chapters up.

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

Following the demon revelation, Jim had made a couple hurried phone calls once they set out again. According to him, they were making a detour to South Dakota to visit a friend who was a demon expert.

After what had happened the afternoon before, Dawn had spent much of the day absolutely miserable. Somehow, it hadn't hit her, not until she'd visited this dimension's version of Buffy, not until she'd told Jim her spin on what had happened that the events of the past few days had really hit her. Maybe she would have sat there and wasted away, except Connor needed her. He needed somebody to take care of him, and somebody to protect him if that demon came back.

So in the morning, once they were on the road, Dawn had quizzed Jim on anything and everything he knew about these strange demons. Dawn faintly remembered reading something which referenced this sort of demon years ago, but in all fairness what was possession in the face of an imminent opening of the Hellmouth? As she couldn't take notes, Dawn committed everything he said to memory, all the while knitting a sweater using a cable pattern this time.

When Jim's knowledge of demons was exhausted, they moved on to Dawn's skills with languages. Dawn didn't think she was that good-she was only fluent in Latin, Spanish, Turkish, Czech, French, Welsh, Gaelic, and ancient Greek-but Jim had been seemingly unreasonably impressed. Likewise, he'd been almost speechless at her skills with Russian, Japanese, Ancient Sumerian, and Hebrew-Willow had taught her when she'd first started babysitting Dawn. She was half Irish and half Welsh, she'd explained to Jim, and had learned the languages from her mother and grandmother, which he'd accepted easily enough. Dawn had very carefully avoided mentioning the demon languages she knew-well; she was conversational in, at least. It didn't seem like something Jim would take all that well. (1)

Instead of stopping around eight or nine like he'd done the night before, Jim kept driving. It was a little after eleven when then pulled off the highway. Sensing that they were near their destination, Dawn put away her knitting-she was whip stitching the seams of the sweater closed-and Connor's scattered baby things. He'd been fed and had his diaper changed not long before, so he seemed content to sleep through her movement.

Half an hour later they arrived at 'Singer Auto Salvage' as the sign proclaimed. It looked ordinary enough, but even in Dawn's limited experience she could tell it was a veritable fortress with the tall fences and iron completely surrounding it.

They pulled in and Dawn hopped out of the car, Connor in one arm, the diaper bag over the opposite shoulder. She stopped to pet the rottweiler chained up in from of the house. It wagged its tail and licked her hand, begging for attention.

"Never seen Rumsfeld take to someone so quickly," commented a man on the porch, shotgun in hand. He looked like the stereotypical redneck and Dawn suddenly had the feeling that was as much of a mask as Buffy's airhead persona.

"I'm a dog person," she said, thinking back to the knowledge that necromanced animals, particularly canines and serpents could see her for what she really was. Apparently grumpy guard dogs could see the Key as well.

"Dawn, this is Bobby Singer. Bobby, this is Mary Dawn O'Dea and her son Connor. She's the one I told you about."

Jim went back and picked up a duffle bag and Dawn's backpack. The trio headed inside, Dawn making no objection when she and Jim both were given holy water to drink.

Dawn handed the bottle of water back to Bobby saying, "No offense meant, but I'd appreciate it if you drank as well."

Bobby gave a short nod and drank what was left in the bottle in one go. "So tell me about your demon problem."

Jim shook his head. "Dawn, why don't you go up to bed. I'll tell Bobby what you told me and you can answer any questions he has in the morning."

"It's alright. I think I'd prefer telling him now," she admitted.

"Come on, we can talk in the kitchen," said Bobby.

She allowed herself to be led to what was likely once a very homely kitchen. There she pulled her knitting back out and continued stitching the seams closed. Once everybody was seated, coffee-or in her case hot chocolate-had been served and Bobby had a notebook and a pen out, Dawn began. She told him everything she'd told Jim, this time refusing to acknowledge that she'd been terrified Daniel would rape her. Jim would tell him if it was important. Halfway through her story she finished the seams and pulled out a crochet hook and began to make a border and button holes around the hems of the sweater, using a simple pattern. Bobby asked her a handful of questions, most of which Dawn couldn't answer.

"Why a sword?" asked Bobby.

"Huh?" said Dawn, looking up from where she was tying off the yarn.

"Why did you pick a sword?"

"The Society for Creative Anachronisms. Uh, Renaissance fair type stuff. Janice's uncle was into that sort of stuff and taught us how to use both a knife and a sword. I can also use a bow, though I haven't used one since I was twelve." Not since Mayor Wilkins's abortive attempt at ascension, but they didn't need to know that. "It seemed like a bad idea to get into a hand to hand fight with somebody that could have been a monster and the sword gave me longer reach than a knife or a battleaxe."

"Ah."

Dawn pulled out a packet of buttons and a needle and thread and began to sew buttons onto the sweater. "Anything else?"

"You plannin' on hunting?"

"If I didn't have Connor, I'd say yes," she admitted. "But I'm not going to go out and search for God only knows what when I have an infant depending on me. I was thinking that maybe once I know for sure what all is really out there I could help hunters research. If nothing else, I can translate things."

"What about college?"

Dawn snorted. "What, I'm supposed to work three jobs and keep Connor in day care I don't know how long to pay to go to college and learn languages I already know? I don't even have a high school diploma or a GED. And even if I did, am I supposed to pretend that the supernatural isn't real or that there might be a demon after Connor and me?"

She snipped the thread on the last button and put the needles, thread and yarn away. "I'm going to head to bed now if you don't mind. I've got maybe an hour and a half before Connor wants to be fed again and I intend to sleep for as much of that time as possible."

"Come on then. You can stay in the guest room," said Bobby.

He picked up the backpack before Dawn had a chance to reach for it and led her upstairs, past a utilitarian room with two beds to an old fashioned room that looked like a woman had decorated it. There was a four poster full sized bed with a white lace canopy and a fussy old fashioned quilt. She was a little surprised by the matching lace curtains and old fashioned wardrobe which matched a dresser and two bedside tables. No closet, but that was why the wardrobe was there, she supposed.

"Thanks for letting me stay tonight," said Dawn.

"You need anything for him?"

"No. Thanks."

* * *

Dawn yawned as she sorted through Bobby's cupboards. Connor had, as predicted, woken her at two and then at six. It was around seven that Dawn had given up the pretense of attempting to sleep and given Connor a bath before cleaning herself and getting ready for the day. It was at that point that Dawn had realized that nobody else was up. So she'd decided to make herself breakfast.

And then Dawn had seen all the dusty, but very nice pans meant for baking. Whoever had decorated the room she'd slept in had obviously been quite the baker-with a taste for pies judging by the number of pie tins. Dawn had ended up pulling out one of the muffin pans and had then begun a search of the fridge and cabinets. Her mother's secret muffin recipe was amazing and Dawn had to admit, she wanted some of them. She wanted some of her mother's raisin cinnamon or blueberry crumble muffins. There were no blueberries, but there were raisins, so she instead collected the ingredients she needed for the raisin cinnamon muffins.

Once the muffins were in the oven, she filled a teakettle with water and set it on a burner. While the water was heating, she pulled out the tin of tea leaves and the china teapot and teacups she'd found during her search for flour and sugar. Dawn cleaned the teapot and teacups before drying them with a towel. Dawn put some tea leaves in the teapot-enough to make a strong cup of tea. When the kettle began to whistle she turned off the burner, waited a moment and then poured the water into the teapot.

While she waited for the muffins to finish baking and the tea to steep, Dawn continued her knitting, absently singing a country song she didn't quite remember the name of… it was something about how the singer should have been a cowboy. Tara had passed her fondness of country music onto Dawn. After the second time she sang the song she moved on to a Blues Traveler song and then a medley of old Johnny Cash songs. Somewhere between taking the muffins out of the oven and the second verse of the Highwayman, Bobby wandered into the kitchen.

She looked up from where she was arranging the steaming hot muffins on a plate and then back down again. She checked to make sure that Bobby hadn't disturbed Connor, who was on a blanket on the floor with his rabbit and rattle, happily entertaining himself by attempting to eat his bootie covered foot.

"I made raising cinnamon muffins, rosehip and raspberry leaf tea, and coffee, if tea isn't your thing, although I thought that since you actually had rosehips and raspberry leaves, you must make tea with them." She tilted her head in contemplation, not once pausing in her babbling. "Of course, both are often used in Wicca and I can only assume that you'd be well versed in such uses, even if you don't practice magic."

"You Wicca?" he asked, pouring himself some tea and grabbing a muffin.

She looked at the man, noting that he was slightly tensed, though there was no obvious sign that he was reaching for a weapon. Could she really deny her abilities, practice in secret? So she took a chance-just a small one. He seemed more reliable than any of the hunters she'd ever met or heard of, and in all honesty she'd rather know now than a couple years from now how hunters would react to this sort of thing.

"I don't practice Wicca as a religion-anybody who does that is a bloody idiot. Half that mainstream crap involves praying to deities for power and nobody in their right mind would want a supposed god's attention. That's just asking for trouble."

Dawn sat down and poured herself a cup of tea. Cautiously, she looked up at Bobby. There was no censure in his expression so she continued. "My first teacher was a woman by the name of Jenny. I studied under her for about a year and a half, starting shortly after the ghost incident when I was ten. She was the one who taught me Latin and Greek." Dawn looked at her hands. "Most of what she taught me was how to channel what she called my natural magical abilities and how to avoid falling into the traps many other magic users fell into by relying on a god or some other being for power rather than themselves, or by entering into Faustian bargains."

"Explain the Faustian bargains thing," said Bobby, his voice carefully neutral.

"According to Jenny a lot of Wicca said a spell in another language that they didn't translate properly or never translated at all and that doing so was an easy way to accidentally see your soul. Or that some people actually sold their soul for power."

"What happened?"

"Jenny was murdered by a vampire." Dawn bit her lip. "My next teacher was Tara. She called herself a Wicca, though to be more accurate the women in her family followed what they called the Old Ways, or traditional Wicca which was about one part actual magic, four parts traditional herbal medicine and two parts midwifery. She only used magic when she'd literally no other choice and never to harm another living being. I studied with her for two years." Dawn snorted. "I did maybe a dozen spells under her supervision during the entire apprenticeship, since she'd decided I had a good enough foundation in magic from what I'd learned from Jenny not to need the practice. Most of what I learned from her was first aid, herbal medicine, midwifery, and pediatric medicine. How many girls my age can say they assisted in the delivery of twenty three babies and delivered eight more on their own? Although Tara was there to supervise during seven of those eight."

"So what, you're a healer?"

Dawn gave him a look of disdain. "Any so-called Wicca who claims they can heal somebody with their magic is full of shit. Healing spells, like resurrection spells always, _always_ go horribly wrong. And if they do manage to pull it off, it's a sure sign that either they're not human or they got their powers from something inhuman."

"What happened to Tara?"

"It was a Tuesday," she said, as though that explained it all. Then realizing that he had no idea of her curse, she explained, "A so-called goddess stole Tara's sanity. It was the goddess that Ben tried to sacrifice me to. That thing had to steal people's sanity, leaving childlike shells behind to fuel her abilities. The goddess died-a hunter killed the damn goddess, thankfully-but Tara… Well she was never the same again."

They fell into silence until Jim came down. Then Bobby wandered off, supposedly to work, though Dawn heard him make a phone call, asking somebody to come over. She reached out discreetly with her senses. She was no psychic-not really-but she was skilled enough to get a sense that neither Jim nor Bobby meant to kill her, but Bobby was very cautious of her and did not believe her. Intellectually, Dawn knew she'd made a tactical mistake and that she should run while she had the chance, but her senses were telling her to stay, that all would be well, though she had no idea how. This was one of the few magics that Tara had taught her. She would follow the advice her senses gave her.

So she cleaned the dishes and then gave Connor a bath, before packing all her things up. It was best to be prepared, if her senses had been fooled.

Dawn settled Connor on his little blanket, laid out on the carpet before the couch and plopped herself down. As she didn't have enough yarn left to make anything save booties in one color, Dawn began to crochet granny squares. She would use all the yarn left and could sew the squares together to make a blanket. Although with so little yarn left, it was more like the beginnings of a blanket than anything else.

She had three squares made and perhaps enough yarn for another two when there was a knock on the door. Jim and Bobby had been in the kitchen talking, and Dawn could only assume that they'd been comparing notes, as there was a hard look on both men's faces when they came out. Bobby opened the door to reveal a dark haired woman in her early twenties. Dawn's eyes widened. She wasn't particularly good at sensing auras-it was an acquired skill and Tara had always been so much better-but it didn't take a genius to realize the woman was a psychic. A powerful one at that.

"Pam, thanks for coming out," said Bobby, pulling the woman into a hug.

"It's no problem. I was in the area anyway," said Pam. "Why hello there. You must be the one who gave Bobby such a scare." She didn't even bother to hide her purpose, at least.

"Yeah, I suppose so," shrugged Dawn. "I'm Mary Dawn O'Dea. Call me Dawn"

"Pamela Barnes, you can call me Pam. Why don't you boys head into town and pick us up something to eat while us ladies get acquainted." She paused, giving Dawn an intense, searching look. "I think roast beef with steamed vegetables, potatoes, and gravy from that deli off Main Street for me and Dawn."

"That does sound good," admitted Dawn. "Ooh, and pickles and some relish on my roast beef as well."

"Right," said a nonplussed Bobby. It seemed that they knew Pamela was trying to get them out of there but after a moment, the men left.

Pam waited until the men's car had left the drive to say, "I have to admit, I have no idea what you are, but you aren't a monster. I've never seen an aura so pure before. Never met somebody from another world before either."

"What can I say? You guys have a really nice dimension. And yeah… it's mostly psychics and lunatics who can see me for what I really am," admitted Dawn.

"And what are you?"

"Honestly? I think it would be best if the knowledge of what I am died with me. Enough people had died over it already. I am human, you know." Dawn paused. "At least, my body's human. It is my body, you know. They made it just for me. There is no soul, no consciousness that my presence deposes, or destroys."

Pamela nodded her understanding. "Fair enough. I see no reason why any of what we just spoke about needs to go beyond us."

"I appreciate that. So, what else is there?"

"Kid, you are damn lucky Bobby and Pastor Jim believe that only those who kill humans should be killed. If you'd tried your little stunt with anybody but those two, you'd have been shot full of iron before you even knew what was happening."

"I needed to know if I was going to have to hide what I am from hunters before I was too entrenched in the hunting community."

"Mm. I'm surprised you found two separate people to teach you. Most of the real Wicca left are so deep in hiding that many hunters think they don't exist."

"They're more common in my world," pointed out Dawn. "I think it's because the dimensional barriers are so weak and there are always monsters coming in and out. Wiccas are needed too much to be ostracized for having powers. Although psychics are really uncommon. There are certain creatures that think psychics and seers are a delicacy or that they make good pets."

"You should practice reading auras," she said. "You'll need it."

"Thanks." Dawn chafed a little at being spoken to like that, but understood that the psychic was merely trying to help her.

"Anything you want to know?"

"Can you-can you tell me what sort of supernatural creatures are native to this world?" asked Dawn, before qualifying it with, "Most of the things I'm used to aren't exactly native to this plane of existence."

Pam shrugged and said, "You already know about ghosts and demons, right? Poltergeists are real too. Do I need to tell you about them? Ok, so next is werewolves."

"What sort of werewolves?" asked Dawn. "I can think of a dozen curses and diseases off the top of my head."

"They unknowingly transform in the week leading up to the full moon and-"

"Eat the heart, right?" So they were what Spike called the pansy-assed-werewolf-wannabes. That made sense, she supposed.

"Yeah. Vampires are nothing like stories. Yeah, sunlight hurts them, but they don't have those pretty fangs. Holy water, crosses and all that do nothing to them. They travel in packs of six to twelve and stay in a town for a couple weeks, feeding off people and then killing them before they move on. Their only real weakness is dead man's blood."

"It acts like a poison and you need to behead them." Buffy had liked to call them shark-teeth-vampires for obvious reasons.

Pam raised an eyebrow, but continued. "Then there are shapeshifters. They can turn into any human they meet and know everything about the person whose form they take. They leave this snake like skin behind when they transform."

Dawn nodded her understanding. "I think I read something about them once, but it was years ago."

Pam spoke more about things called wendigos and what witches were really like in this world. And then Connor started to cry, making his hungry noises. Dawn just put down her crocheting and picked him up so that he could suckle. It was only when Connor was happily nursing that Dawn looked up, to see a strange look upon Pam's face.

"What is it?" she asked.

"That baby isn't completely human. He's a dhampir."

"Huh," said Dawn. "What can I say, I come from a strange world. Dhampirs aren't exactly common, but they happen every couple of centuries."

It explained a lot, Dawn supposed. It wasn't common knowledge among the supernatural community but the Watcher's Council had record of several children fathered upon human women by vampires. The children were generally either hunted down and killed or raised to be hunters.

"Are you-he hurt you," whispered Pam, her eyes far, far away. "He hurt you so badly. And nobody came to rescue you. You'll never forgive your sister for-"

"Enough," snapped Dawn. The blood had drained from her face and in her arms, Connor had let go of her nipple and begun to let out whimpers that were not quite cries, as if he sensed Dawn's distress. "I'd appreciate it if you stayed the hell out of my head."

"I'm sorry," said Pam. "I have no excuse for that. I don't know what happened."

"It was probably my aura," she admitted as she rocked Connor, trying to calm him. "I remember, Jenny never looked at my aura after the first time, she said it made her feel seasick. You probably shouldn't look at it too long. Although at least my aura doesn't burn people's eyes out. There are creatures whose true form is so beyond human understanding that it melts the eyes of humans who look at them."

Pam had somehow seen at least part of what had happened when Buffy had accidentally broken the curse on Angel's soul three and a half years prior. Angelus had kidnapped Dawn and spent an afternoon torturing her. When he'd left to go gloat at Buffy about what he was doing, Spike had helped Dawn escape. It was why she'd always been so fond of him. And Pam was right, Dawn would had never and would never forgive Buffy for refusing to see Angelus for the monster he was, for refusing, even then to kill Angelus, for refusing to give up this dream of cursing Angelus with his soul once more. (2)

Once Connor was calmed, he went back to nursing, though he still seemed slightly upset. They were silent for several minutes as Pam collected herself and Dawn busied herself with burping Connor and laying him on the ground once more. When he was settled she picked up what was left of her yarn and continued making granny squares.

"You should pay more attention to your dreams," said Pam, breaking the silence. "You might want to button up your shirt, Bobby and Pastor Jim will be back any minute."

"Thanks." She hadn't even notice that while her bra had been righted, she'd left her shirt open.

"That reminds me," said Pam. "Wait here."

Pam left the living room and from the sound of it went outside. She returned about five minutes later carrying a plastic bag. She handed the bag to Dawn.

"Here. You can have it. My mother tried to get me into knitting. Again," laughed Pam. "Anyway, I've no us for it and I felt I should bring the stuff with me when Bobby called me this morning."

"Thank you," said Dawn. "I really appreciate it."

She looked into the bag and found eight large skeins of worsted weight yarn. Though it was only the relatively cheap, acrylic yarn, it must have cost a pretty penny to buy so much. No wonder Pam would rather the yarn was used than to let it go to waste. Two were a color changing yarn in shades of ocean blue, white, and tan, the other six were two skeins each of matching blue, white and tan. The yarn was too bulky for Connor's clothing or to be added to the granny square blanket she was making, but Dawn supposed she could make a blanket or some winter wear for herself. It even came with a set of size 10 knitting needles and a 5.00 mm crochet hook.

"Do you know what Jim and Bobby intend to do with me now?"

"Jim intends to send you to live with his sister over in New York," she explained. "But we both know that eventually the monsters are going to notice you're running around and Jim's sister and her husband are both civilians. Bobby's thinking about sending you to Nebraska to live with the widow of a hunter. But Ellen runs a bar that caters specifically to hunters and it will only be a matter of time before somebody notices you using magic or you slip up and mention something you shouldn't. Personally, I think you should come back to Illinois with me."(3)

"Why should I go to Illinois?"

"I'm a psychic. All the hunters I know are the ones who can deal with working with people with powers. I can teach you how to help research for hunters. And I live just outside of Chicago. There are some good nursing schools in Chicago and the University of Illinois at Chicago has a nurse-midwifery program for once you've finished your nursing degree."

Dawn nodded her understanding. It was the best offer she was going to get. And she really did want to go to college. She wanted to become s nurse-midwife, she'd wanted to become one since she had first begun attending attending home births with Tara. "I guess I'll be going to Chicago with you."

She supposed she'd be making winter wear after all. There was more than enough yarn for her to make a hat, scarf and a poncho type shawl, maybe even enough for a plain wrap as well and still have enough leftover to make a good sized blanket. With eight skeins made of sixteen ounces of yarn each, there was enough for two twin sized blankets, at the very least.

A moment later there was the sound of a car pulling up. The men came in carrying bags of takeout. They visibly relaxed when they saw that Pam was unharmed.

"Lunch is ready," said Bobby.

"Thank you," said Dawn. She pulled her sling back on and put the yawning Connor in it. She left the yarn where it was and followed everybody into the kitchen.

The men set out the food while Dawn found plates and silverware and Pam set out bottles of beer for the men and herself and soda for Dawn.

"You do realize," said Pam, once everybody had their food, "that Dawn was testing the waters when she told you what she was, right? The hunters she knew were more… liberal than most and she wanted to know now, rather than later what a more normal hunter's reaction to what she is would be." Pam ate a couple bites of food before continuing. "Everything she told you was the truth. And she's a real Wicca. Her power is her own. I'm a little surprised that a demon didn't come from her sooner, but I suppose with Pike dead, she no longer had a protector and they thought her easy pickings."

"Pike?" echoed Jim.

"He was the hunter I told you about. The one I used to translate for from time to time. He's the one who died rescuing me from Ben-the guy who tried to sacrifice me to that bitch of a pagan goddess last week." The tears she managed to fight back were real, though they were for Buffy, not Pike. In this dimension Oliver Pike had overdosed on heroin shortly before Hemmery High School burned down, but they didn't need to know that. In her dimension Pike was a successful bounty hunter who specialized in dealing with the supernatural, and that was how she wanted to remember him.

Unsurprisingly neither man had ever heard of Pike before, but they seemed to calm upon Pam's pronouncement. Then conversation turned to what Dawn could do with magic, which apparently wasn't much more than what a psychic like Pam was capable of. Although apparently Dawn knew more about the various methods of using magic and how a person could mess up with magic than any of them, which impressed both Bobby and Jim.

After lunch, Dawn went into the living room with Bobby and learned to make a Devil's Trap from Bobby and the words of the exorcism most commonly used. In the kitchen, Pam and Jim were talking in voices too low for Dawn to make out clearly. She copied it all down along with everything she remembered about what was real in this dimension in a small notebook she'd picked up the night before.

Once Bobby left to go work, she pulled out a second small notebook and began to copy down everything she could remember about the demons of the world she'd come from. She didn't think she'd run into any of the interdimensional demons, but it was better to be safe than sorry and she didn't trust her memory enough to believe that she'd remember it all ten years from now.

Maybe she should start keeping a journal again. As soon as the thought occurred, her mind shied away from the idea. She remembered far too clearly the journals full of lies, the journals she'd burned. But she was real, she knew that much. Yet Dawn couldn't bring herself to do so. Not yet, at least. Maybe in a couple months.

When her hand grew tired, Dawn put away her notebooks and pulled out the yarn Pam had given her and began to knit a hat with a relatively simple stripe pattern. If she had the extra yarn, once everything else was made, she might crochet a fancier, lacy hat.

By the time supper came around, she was roughly a third of the way through the hat. As she'd made breakfast and Bobby and Jim had provided lunch, Pam had volunteered to make dinner. They looked a little disgusted at the condiments she put in her stew, but said nothing about it and Dawn was used to receiving such looks for her food choices.

Conversation at dinner was light. Mostly Bobby and Jim told stories about hunts they'd been on over the years. Not their first encounter with the supernatural-Dawn had a feeling whatever their first encounter had been; it had involved a tragedy of some sort. After some prompting, Dawn told the full story of the ghost in her friend Janice's home, revealing that while she'd already known that the supernatural was real by the point in her life, she'd not had a real encounter with it yet. Likewise, she revealed that it was her and Janice's search for information on ghosts that had brought herself to the attention to Jenny, the "librarian" she'd often been babysat by.

Jim waited until Pam had left and Bobby had wandered off to say, "Dawn, I have an offer for you, and I want you to hear me out before you say yes or no."

"I'm listening," said Dawn, absently rubbing Connor's back as he napped. He'd just eaten his dinner and had his diaper changed an hour earlier, so it would be a while before he woke up.

"I spoke to my sister, she'd be willing to take you and Connor in," explained Jim. "But her condition is that you finish high school." Jim paused, letting his words sink in. "Now, she knows about the supernatural, but her children and her husband don't. Connor is your son, you can tell him whatever you want about what's really out there, but Kathy doesn't want her family to know."

"I think it's unwise to leave them ignorant, vulnerable to the monsters, but if she doesn't want them to know, I'll respect her decision," said Dawn. Then realizing what she said, quickly amended, "Not that I've agreed to live with her yet. Pam and I talked about it and she offered to let me stay with her. No offense meant, but I think it might be safer for both me and your family if I stayed with Pam. I don't want anything hunting me to go after civilians around me who have no idea what's out there."

Jim nodded. "That's probably for the best. Do you still want to get Connor baptized?" at Dawn's nod, he continued. "Blue Earth is on the way to Chicago. It wouldn't take much for you to take a detour to the church for his baptism."

"Thanks. If Pam doesn't mind, I'd like that."

"There's something else. Now, I get calls from hunters who need a reference for a translator every couple of months. If you agree to translate for them, they'll probably be calling you regularly for translations. They probably won't be able to pay you in money, but most would be willing to exchange a favor for a translation"

"Alright. I don't mind doing that."

"If you're willing, I could let it be known that you're an expert on witches."

"I wouldn't call myself an expert."

"Kid, you know more about magic and rituals than anybody I've ever met."

"Maybe once I have a cell phone and a new e-mail address, you could give anybody who needs advice one witches one or the other, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable having hunters who might not be as open minded as you and Mr. Singer knowing my full name and where I live."

"I doubt anybody will have a problem with that. A lot of our contacts work that way."

* * *

(1) Dawn's skills with languages didn't really come up until Season 6, nevertheless, it takes time and effort to learn a language. My theory is that she had a good basis in and knowledge of languages by that time, likely because Giles or Miss Calendar or somebody else taught her. After all, what else do you do with some kid that you have to baby sit while you're trying to research the Big Bad or Apocalypse of the week when you don't want her to know about the supernatural?

(2) When the monks crammed memories of Dawn into everybody's head, it was implied that Angelus had gone after Dawn rather than Willow during season 2.

(3) I'm relatively sure that Pam lives somewhere in Illinois. I don't have the time or the patience to look up where, so I've decided she lives near Chicago. Admittedly, this is mostly because it's very convenient for me.


End file.
